


Always

by oddgit



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Anxiety, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 06:09:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12698955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddgit/pseuds/oddgit
Summary: "Whatever Root had given him at the house had made him feel like a zombie. The words seemed to come out of his mouth ten seconds slower than he meant them to."





	Always

**Author's Note:**

> The mid-semester rush is over and I finally have some time to write again! Lol  
> Always wished they would have shown us more Harold and John moments after Root took Harold, but that's what fanfic is for, right?  
> Cliche title... sorry. 
> 
> Special thanks as always to M_E_Lover for the beta work!!

“Am I hit?”

“I don’t think so… Sorry I took so long.”

“I really didn’t intend for you to come and find me, Mr. Reese… There are other people who need your help.”

“Well, you saved my life once or twice, Harold. It seemed only fair I return the favor…”

Harold limped out of the door, his arm intertwined with John’s. That was really the only reason that Harold was still able to stand.

Whatever Root had given him at the house made him feel like a zombie. The words seemed to come out of his mouth ten seconds slower than he meant them to.

He knew John noticed… but didn’t say anything.

John led him to a truck. He must have stolen it… but where would he have gotten a hunting truck?

“Harold,” John roused him from his thoughts.

“What?” Harold hummed, turning to face John, who was still holding him up.

“What did she give you? Do you know?” John’s eyes were stone cold, but somehow still soft, and deep concern was written in them.

“Sedative,” Harold answered. He looked down at his wrist. “My… my watch… it’s gone…” he frowned.

John just turned him around and opened the truck door, “Come on, we have to get out of here.”

Harold complied and cooperated as much as he could as John helped to lift him up into the truck.

After he buckled Harold in and shut the door… John jogged over to the driver’s side and got in.

Harold had already closed his eyes and had almost dozed off.

“Finch, I need you to stay awake.” He nudged Harold gently.

Harold looked at him and nodded. The look in John’s eyes told him that he really did need to stay awake, but he was so tired. He just wanted to get back to his apartment and sleep for the next few days.

“Thank you… John…” Harold murmured.

John glanced over at him while he drove the truck onto the highway, “what?”

“I knew you’d come…” Harold smiled and closed his eyes again, sinking down into the seat.

#

John put his arm under Harold’s again when they walked into the hotel. “Hang on to me,” he said, his voice low.

“Where are we?” Harold asked, his vision was blurry, and he’d just realized he didn’t have his glasses on. “Where are my…”

Before he could finish, John pulled Harold’s glasses out of his pocket and placed them over his ears and onto the bridge of his nose. “We’re at a hotel in Delaware. Let me handle this, okay?”

Harold nodded and allowed John to lead him to a chair sitting beside the front desk. In plain view of where John would be standing. “Sit here. Don’t move. I’ll be right back, okay?”

But when John tried to help Harold sit down, his breath started to come short and his chest felt tight.

“Harold?” John asked. “Are you okay?”

“F… fine…”

“You’re shaking…” John frowned and his hold on Harold tightened, “Breathe…” he whispered, looking Harold in the eyes.

“D… don’t leave me… a… alone.” He was having a hard time catching his breath.

“Okay… okay…” John looked around. “Come on.”

John led the smaller man down a hallway and into a bathroom. He put the garbage can in front of the door to make sure no one else would enter.

Harold turned and leaned over the sink, eyes squeezed shut as he fought to get control of himself. A hand on his shoulder made him startle.

“I’m sorry, Harold, I wasn’t thinking.” John’s voice was soft and apologetic.

“I’m fine,” Finch said, wincing as he tried to shrug off Reese’s touch. “I just need to catch my breath.”

John stepped back, “Okay…”

After a few seconds and a few deep breaths, Harold looked at his partner, “Okay… I think… I think I’m alright.”

John smiled sadly, “Okay, come on. Just let me do the talking, okay?”

Harold nodded, and they made their way back out to the lobby.

#

They were making their way down a long hallway, John’s hand on the small of Harold’s back to keep him steady and offer support.

Suddenly, Harold noticed a woman walking toward them. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly went dry, his pulse racing again.

John must have felt him tense, because his hold on him tightened and he leaned in close, “I’m right here,” John said; the low, familiar voice seeming to break through the panic. “It’s okay.”

Harold gulped and took a deep breath.

The woman passed and his shoulders relaxed a bit. Why was he so scared? He was a grown man, an educated and sane person. He hadn’t been beaten or raped or shot or blown up… he had been tied to a chair for a few hours.

“I’m s… sorry,” Harold choked out. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”

John shook his head, “You have nothing to be sorry for.” His facial expression remained stoic. “This is us…” He pointed to a room and steered Harold toward the door.

John slid the room key into the slot and opened the door after the green light and a beep signaled that the room was unlocked.

Harold limped over to the bed and collapsed with a painful huff of air. His chest was heaving, and his eyes were clenched shut.

John put the hotel key on the dresser and took his gun out from the small of his back and set it there as well. He grabbed a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge.

“Drink this.” He held it out to his partner. “Shower, food, then rest,” John said, sitting down next to Harold. “Hey…” He put his hand gently on his cheek.

“Just breathe, Harold,” John murmured, “You’re all right; you’re safe with me.”

Harold cracked his eyes open and managed a small smile to his partner. He lifted his head, trying not to wince as his fused vertebrae gave a particularly painful twinge, and looked up into John’s face.

He picked up his hand and looked at the bandage, “She cut me… at a pharmacy… she wanted a distraction while she stole a drug…”

John scowled and took Harold’s hand in his. He helped Harold sit up and unwrapped the bandage. His brow furrowed at the gash, “We need to get this cleaned out. Come on, you need a shower.”

Harold was starting to feel tired again and when he went to stand, he swayed, “Oh…” He grabbed his head, “I feel a bit… woozy…”

John grabbed his arm to steady him, “It’s probably whatever she gave you... Drink this for me, okay? I’m going to go start the shower.” He held out the bottle again and Harold took it with shaky hands. “I’m just going into the bathroom, okay? You going to be all right?”

Harold gulped down a few sips of the water, “I think so…”

#

John ordered room service while Harold was in the shower.

Harold emerged from the steamy room, a towel wrapped around his hips, “I’m afraid I don’t have any…” He stopped when he saw that John had sweatpants and a t-shirt laid out on the bed for him.

“Sorry. They might be a little big. Getting you clothes was the last thing on my mind…” he smirked.

“No. These will be perfectly fine… thank you.” Harold tried to suppress a yawn but failed.

“Come on. Get dressed, the food should be here shortly. Then, after you eat something, you can get some much-needed rest.”

Harold picked up the clothes with his uninjured hand and threw the shirt over his head and pulled the gray sweatpants on.

He dried his hair a bit more with the towel and then took it back into the bathroom and slung it over the shower rod.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door and Harold froze.

His heart started hammering in his chest and he had to grab onto the sink, so he didn’t fall over. The flashback of Root shoving a needle into his neck, slashing his hand open, and putting a bullet in Denton Weeks’ chest came flooding back to assault him mercilessly.

“J… John…” His voice was nothing but a raspy whisper.

He sat down on top of the closed toilet seat cover and held his head in his hands. He was trying to calm himself down, counting numbers in his head to try and slow his heart rate down.

He watched John walk to the door with his gun raised, look through the peephole, put his gun back in his waistband and then open the door to accept the room service cart.

He let out a choked, relieved sigh.

“Harold?” John said after he shut the door. He noticed the smaller man sitting on top of the toilet lid and he must not have looked very good. “It was just room service… it’s all right…”

The corner of his mouth quirked up a bit, “I know… I’m fine. What did you get to eat?” he tried to deflect the attention away from the look of panic he must be showing on his face.

John thankfully pretended not to notice.

#

After he forced himself to eat a little bit for John’s sake, Harold was having a hard time keeping his eyes open while John carefully applied the anti-bacterial ointment over the open cut on his hand.

John was so careful when he cared for him. Harold barely even noticed that he was doing anything. Then he felt himself start to nod off and jerked awake.

John put his hand on his shoulder, “Okay, let’s get you to bed,” he smiled and finished wrapping Harold’s hand with a bandage.

He guided Harold to the bed and helped him settle in and tucked the comforter around him. He took his glasses off gently and set them on the bedside table.

Exhausted, mentally, emotionally, and physically, Harold closed his eyes and just began to drift off to sleep when he felt the bed dip next to him and the covers rustle when John pulled them over himself.

He felt his partner sit up on an elbow and the sound of what must have been him sliding his Sig Sauer under the pillow.

“Good night, Harold.” John leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the smaller man’s forehead. The first kiss since he had rescued him.

“Good night…” Harold started but he was drifting off into oblivion before he could even say the word ‘John.’

#

“It’s been an honor to meet you… at last…”

“Ahhh!” Harold shot up in bed with a pained gasp. Sweat dripped down his face and his shirt clung to him.

“Harold?” John sat up, alarmed. “What is it?” He reached over and flipped on the bedside lamp.

“I just…” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Need a minute.” He took in a big breath and threw the covers off his legs.

“Harold…” John sat up and went to follow him but Harold limped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him without another word.

The door shut and he fell back against it. The back of his head followed.

With a wince, he closed his eyes and tried to focus on breathing.

He choked, a strangled sound trying to escape. He couldn’t seem to get enough air and he couldn’t stop thinking about how weak he was, helpless, broken and useless.

He slowly sunk to the floor. His back pressed up against the door and his right leg propped up against his chest.

Tears of frustration built up in his eyes and then he heard a soft, tentative knock on the door.

“Harold? It’s me… wanna let me in?” John asked gently, his voice soft and calming.

Harold’s head fell back to rest against the door. He took a deep breath and then forced himself to stand up and turned around to open it.

“Hey…” John smiled sympathetically at him. “Wanna talk about it?”

Harold almost pushed his way past John and turned off the bathroom light, “Not particularly.”

“Harold…” John sighed, exhausted. “You can’t keep this stuff bottled up… trust me. I know.”

“Do you?” Harold shot back at him, his tone sharp. “I’m sorry. I forgot you’re the expert on kidnapping and torture.”

John took a step back, a frown on his face.

Harold knew it was a low blow. Knew it hurt John. This wasn’t John’s fault, but he just needed someone to yell at. Needed someone to take out all this frustration on.

“I’m sorry… John…” Finch started to apologize, fighting back the sob that rose up in his throat, and turned away, his hands shaking.

“No… it’s okay…” John grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him gently to face him. 

Finch blinked, and John could tell he was struggling with his emotions, a fact that made his stomach tighten into a knot. He was usually so good at hiding things.

“I can’t stop thinking about it.” Harold finally admitted. “When I saw that woman in the hallway… I saw her. When the room service person knocked on the door… I thought she was coming back to get me… to kill you…”

John frowned.

Harold looked away, his gaze going unfocused as he struggled, “I can’t shake this feeling.”

John pulled him in close to him. “I know… do you want to talk about it? It helps…” John ran his hand through Harold’s hair with a soft smile.

“I don’t know, John…” Harold whispered. He sat down on the bed and put his face in his hands.

John sat down next to him and climbed over behind him. He wrapped his hands around the smaller man and sighed, “Okay… well, let’s go to bed then…” He kissed Harold on the top of the head. “I’ll snuggle you up and you’ll be the safest you’ve ever been.”

Harold had to huff a small laugh. John was just trying to help. No matter how ridiculous he sounded at the moment. Maybe that was part of his plan to get Harold to relax a little bit.

“Okay…” Harold groaned and rolled himself over into bed and under the covers.

John followed him and scooted into bed and nestled up against Harold’s back, wrapping his arms around the older man.

He held him, one hand stroking Harold’s hair, from the back of his head to the nape of his neck. It was a repetitive, soothing motion that crumbled Harold’s resolve, making something in his chest brake and he started to sob.

John rubbed his back as he shook and shook, and softly murmured endearments. “Shhh, it’ll be alright.”

John stroked his back, desperate to say anything that would take away his fear and misery.

Harold’s tears refuse to stop, and they flowed down his face and bled into John’s shirt where his face pressed into his chest.

The storm eventually blew itself out. When Harold was quieter, John pulled back a little, and ran his thumb under Harold’s eyes, wiping the tears from his face.

“All she wanted to know and kept asking was where the machine was…” Harold whispered, his voice watery, “I _couldn’t_ tell her. She tortured Denton Weeks. Hung him up by his arms and put a black hood over his head…”

John gently ran his hands up and down Harold’s back, trying to ease just a bit of comfort and understanding into the smaller, trembling man.

“She made me listen to him… He was groaning and gasping in pain… I couldn’t take it anymore and asked her to please let him down… Eventually, I helped him get free and he beat her and he got her gun and asked me if she could change the machine…”

Harold’s eyes closed, and he took a deep breath.

“I told him no… it could not be altered remotely… then he turned the gun on me.”

John squeezed his partner a little bit closer and Harold buried his face into the crook of John’s neck.

“He pulled the trigger, but it was empty…” Harold’s sobs started again. “I thought I was dead…”

John felt a warm fire of hatred rise in his chest and wished he would have found Weeks alive when he got to the house just so he could have been the one to kill him.

“She tazed him… She planned the whole thing… She let him take her gun, beat her up… everything.”

John stayed quiet and let Harold get out whatever he needed to.

“I didn’t know whether to be thankful or… angry that she played me like that. She _knew_ that I would try to help him.”

Harold didn’t say anything else. They just laid there for a while in complete silence. John actually thought Harold was sleeping until he shifted under John’s hold and looked up at him.

“Better?” John asked, his brow raised.

“A little,” Harold admitted… his shoulders slumping a bit. “Thank you…”

“I’ll always be there for you Harold… always.”

Harold looked into John’s eyes and smiled. “I know that, John... and I’ll always be there for you.”

They laid together quietly until exhaustion took hold and Harold fell under its spell.

John watched him and felt a warmth in his heart and closed his own eyes to join him.


End file.
